The Germans, as I said, form a most valuable addition to our

population, when mingled with the great predominant race inhabiting

the northern part of this continent. Whenever colonists settle among

a different nation, in such numbers and so closely together that

they may live on among themselves, without intermixture with the

original inhabitants, a variety of inconveniences will necessarily

arise. Living in an isolated state, the current of civilization of the

country in which they live does not reach them; and they are equally

cut off from that of their mother country: mental stagnation is the

consequence. They remain a foreign element, an ill-joined part of the

great machinery of which they still form, and needs must form, a part.

Sometimes, indeed, particular circumstances may alter the view of the

case. When the French Protestant colonists were received into Prussia,

it was perhaps judicious to allow them, for example in Berlin, to form

for a time a community for themselves, to have their own jurisdiction,

schools, and churches, because they were more perfect in many branches

of industry than the people among whom they settled; and, had they been

obliged to immerge forthwith, their skill, so desirable to those who

received them, might have been lost.

At present, however, they too are immerged in the mass of the

population. Besides, the inconvenience arising from their forming a

separate community was never very great, since they were few in number,

and belonged by their professions to the better educated classes. But

take an example in the Hussites, who settled in Germany; remember the

Bohemian village near Berlin, called Rixdorf, the inhabitants of which

obstinately refused intermarrying with Germans, and many of whom, until

very recently, continued to speak Bohemian only. Those, therefore, who

lately proposed to form a whole German state in our west, ought to

weigh well their project before they set about it, if ever it should

become possible to put this scheme into practice, which I seriously

doubt. “Ossification,” as the Germans call it, would be the unavoidable

consequence. These colonists would be unable, though they might come

by thousands and tens of thousands, to develop for themselves German

literature, German language, German law, German science, German art;

everything would remain stationary at the point where it was when they

brought it over from the mother country, and within less than fifty

years our colony would degenerate into an antiquated, ill-adapted

element of our great national system, with which, sooner or later, it

must assimilate. What a voluntary closing of the eyes to light would it

be for a colony among people of the Anglican race, which, in point of

politics, has left every other race far behind, to strive to isolate

itself!

POLITICAL LIBERTY IN AMERICA

As a thousand things co-operated in ancient Greece to produce that

unrivalled state of perfection in which we find the fine arts to have

been there,--a happy constellation of the most fortunate stars,--so a

thousand favorable circumstances concur in America to make it possible

that a far greater amount of liberty can be introduced into all the

concerns of her political society than ever was possible before with

any other nation, or will be at any future period, yet also requiring

its sacrifices, as the fine arts with the Greeks required theirs.

The influence of this nation has been considerable already; it will be

much more so yet in ages to come; political ideas will be developed

here, and have a decided effect on the whole European race, and, for

aught I know, upon other races. But as the Grecian art has kindled the

sense of the beautiful with many nations, but never could be equalled

again (as a national affair), so it is possible that political notions,

developed here and received by other nations, will have a sound

influence only if in their new application they are modified to the

given circumstances; for it is not in the power of any man or nation to

create all those circumstances under the shade of which liberty reposes

here. Politics is civil architecture, and a poor architect indeed is

he who forgets three things in building: the place where the building

is to be raised, the materials with which he has to build, and the

object for which the structure is erected. If the materials are Jews

of Palestine, and if the object of the fabric be to keep the people as

separate from neighbors as possible, the architect would not obtain his

end by a constitution similar to that of one of our new States.

It was necessary for the Americans, in order to make them fit to solve

certain political problems, which, until their solution here, were

considered chimerical (take as an instance the keeping of this immense

country without a garrison), that they should descend from the English,

should begin as persecuted colonists severed from the mother country,

and yet loving it with all their heart and all their soul; to have a

continent, vast and fertile, and possessing those means of internal

communication which gave to Europe the great superiority over Asia and

Africa; to be at such a distance from Europe that she should appear

as a map; to be mostly Protestants, and to settle in colonies with

different charters, so that, when royal authority was put down, they

were as so many independent States, and yet to be all of one metal, so

that they never ceased morally to form one nation, nor to feel as such.

You may say, “Strange, that an abuse of liberty, as this apparent or

real party strife in election contests actually is, should lead you to

the assertion that no nation is fitter for a government of law.” Yet I

do repeat it. How would it be with other nations? It would be _after_

an election of this kind that the real trouble would only _begin_; we

see an instance in South America. Here, on the other hand, as soon as

the election is over, the contest is settled, and the citizen obeys

the law. “Keep to the right, as the law directs,” you will often find

on sign-boards on bridges in this country. It expresses the authority

which the law here possesses. I doubt very much whether the Romans,

noted for their obedience to the law, held it in higher respect than

the Americans.

CARL SCHURZ

Carl Schurz, probably the most eminent of German immigrants to the

United States, was born in Rhenish Prussia, in 1829. He came to

America in 1852 and settled in Missouri, from which State he was

sent to Congress as Senator. He served as a general in the Union

Army during the Civil War. In 1875 he removed to New York City and

was editor of _The Evening Post_ from 1881 to 1884. He was active

in support of civil service reform, and as a political thinker

commanded high respect. His most notable works are his “Speeches,”

his “Reminiscences,” a “Life of Henry Clay,” and “Abraham Lincoln: an

Essay.” The last was originally published in _The Atlantic Monthly_

as a review of “Abraham Lincoln: A History,” by Nicolay and Hay.

As a tribute to the life and work of Lincoln it is worthy to stand

beside the “Commemoration Ode” of Lowell and the memorial poems of

Whitman. Both from his natural sympathies and endowments and because

of his participation in the events of the time, Schurz was eminently

qualified to write on the subject. With fine enthusiasm and yet

avoiding extravagant eulogy, he never loses sight of the essentially

human characteristics of the great President. The following passage

comprises the closing words of the essay. The selections on “True

Americanism” are taken from an address delivered in Faneuil Hall,

Boston, on the 18th of April, 1859.

AN IMMIGRANT’S TRIBUTE TO LINCOLN

To the younger generation Abraham Lincoln has already become a

half-mythical figure, which, in the haze of historic distance, grows

to more and more heroic proportions, but also loses in distinctness of

outline and feature. This is indeed the common lot of popular heroes;

but the Lincoln legend will be more than ordinarily apt to become

fanciful, as his individuality, assembling seemingly incongruous

qualities and forces in a character at the same time grand and most

lovable, was so unique, and his career so abounding in startling

contrasts. As the state of society in which Abraham Lincoln grew up

passes away, the world will read with increasing wonder of the man

who, not only of the humblest origin, but remaining the simplest

and most unpretending of citizens, was raised to a position of

power unprecedented in our history; who was the gentlest and most

peace-loving of mortals, unable to see any creature suffer without a

pang in his own breast, and suddenly found himself called to conduct

the greatest and bloodiest of our wars; who wielded the power of

government when stern resolution and relentless force were the order

of the day, and then won and ruled the popular mind and heart by the

tender sympathies of his nature; who was a cautious conservative by

temperament and mental habit, and led the most sudden and sweeping

social revolution of our time; who, preserving his homely speech and

rustic manner even in the most conspicuous position of that period,

drew upon himself the scoffs of polite society, and then thrilled the

soul of mankind with utterances of wonderful beauty and grandeur;

who, in his heart the best friend of the defeated South, was murdered

because a crazy fanatic took him for its most cruel enemy; who, while

in power, was beyond measure lampooned and maligned by sectional

passion and an excited party spirit, and around whose bier friend and

foe gathered to praise him--which they have since never ceased to

do--as one of the greatest of Americans and the best of men.

TRUE AMERICANISM

It is one of the earliest recollections of my boyhood that one summer

night our whole village was stirred up by an uncommon occurrence. I say

our village, for I was born not far from the beautiful spot where the

Rhine rolls his green waters out of the wonderful gate of the Seven

Mountains, and then meanders with majestic tranquillity through one of

the most glorious valleys of the world. That night our neighbors were

pressing around a few wagons covered with linen sheets and loaded with

household utensils and boxes and trunks to their utmost capacity. One

of our neighboring families was moving far away across a great water,

and it was said they would never again return. And I saw silent tears

trickling down weather-beaten cheeks, and the hands of rough peasants

firmly pressing each other, and some of the men and women hardly able

to speak when they nodded to one another a last farewell. At last the

train started into motion, they gave three cheers for _America_, and

then in the first gray dawn of the morning I saw them wending their way

over the hill until they disappeared in the shadow of the forest. And I

heard many a man say, how happy he would be if he could go with them to

that great and free country, where a man could be himself.

That was the first time that I heard of America, and my childish

imagination took possession of a land covered partly with majestic

trees, partly with flowery prairies, immeasurable to the eye, and

intersected with large rivers and broad lakes,--a land where everybody

could do what he thought best, and where nobody need be poor because

everybody was free.

And later, when I was old enough to read, and descriptions of this

country and books on American history fell into my hands, the offspring

of my imagination acquired the colors of reality, and I began to

exercise my brain with the thought what man might be and become when

left perfectly free to himself. And still later, when ripening into

manhood, I looked up from my schoolbooks into the stir and bustle of

the world, and the trumpet-tones of struggling humanity struck my ear

and thrilled my heart, and I saw my nation shake her chains in order

to burst them, and I heard a gigantic, universal shout for Liberty

rising up to the skies; and at last, after having struggled manfully

and drenched the earth of Fatherland with the blood of thousands

of noble beings, I saw that nation crushed down again, not only by

overwhelming armies, but by the dead weight of customs and institutions

and notions and prejudices, which past centuries had heaped upon them,

and which a moment of enthusiasm, however sublime, could not destroy;

then I consoled an almost despondent heart with the idea of a youthful

people and of original institutions clearing the way for an untrammeled

development of the ideal nature of man. Then I turned my eyes

instinctively across the Atlantic Ocean, and America and Americanism,

as I fancied them, appeared to me as the last depositories of the hopes

of all true friends of humanity.

I say all this, not as though I indulged in the presumptuous delusion

that my personal feelings and experience would be of any interest to

you, but in order to show you what America is to the thousands of

thinking men in the old world, who, disappointed in their fondest hopes

and depressed by the saddest experience, cling with their last remnant

of confidence in human nature, to the last spot on earth where man is

free to follow the road to attainable perfection, and where, unbiased

by the disastrous influence of traditional notions, customs, and

institutions, he acts on his own responsibility. They ask themselves:

Was it but a wild delusion when we thought that man has the faculty to

be free and to govern himself? Have we been fighting, were we ready to

die, for a mere phantom, for a mere product of a morbid imagination?

This question downtrodden humanity cries out into the world, and from

this country it expects an answer....

They speak of the greatness of the Roman Republic! Oh, sir, if I could

call the proudest of Romans from his grave, I would take him by the

hand and say to him, Look at this picture, and at this! The greatness

of the Roman Republic consisted in its despotic rule over the world;

the greatness of the American Republic consists in the secured right of

man to govern himself. The dignity of the Roman citizen consisted in

his exclusive privileges; the dignity of the American citizen consists

in his holding the natural rights of his neighbor just as sacred as

his own. The Roman Republic recognized and protected the _rights of

the citizen_, at the same time disregarding and leaving unprotected

the _rights of man_; Roman citizenship was founded upon monopoly, not

upon the claims of human nature. What the citizen of Rome claimed for

himself, he did not respect in others; his own greatness was his only

object; his own liberty, as he regarded it, gave him the privilege

to oppress his fellow-beings. His democracy, instead of elevating

mankind to its own level, trampled the rights of man into the dust. The

security of the Roman Republic, therefore, consisted in the power of

the sword; the security of the American Republic rests in the equality

of human rights! The Roman Republic perished by the sword; the American

Republic will stand as long as the equality of human rights remains

inviolate. Which of the two Republics is the greater--the Republic of

the Roman, or the Republic of _man_?

Sir, I wish the words of the Declaration of Independence, “that all men

are created free and equal, and are endowed with certain inalienable

rights,” were inscribed upon every gatepost within the limits of this

Republic. From this principle the Revolutionary Fathers derived their

claim to independence; upon this they founded the institutions of this

country, and the whole structure was to be the living incarnation of

this idea. This principle contains the programme of our political

existence. It is the most progressive, and at the same time the most

conservative one; the most progressive, for it takes even the lowliest

members of the human family out of their degradation, and inspires

them with the elevating consciousness of equal human dignity; the most

conservative, for it makes a common cause of individual rights. From

the equality of rights springs identity of our highest interests; you

cannot subvert your neighbor’s rights without striking a dangerous blow

at your own. And when the rights of one cannot be infringed without

finding a ready defence in all others who defend their own rights in

defending his, then, and only then, are the rights of all safe against

the usurpation of governmental authority.

This general identity of interests is the only thing that can guarantee

the stability of democratic institutions. Equality of rights,

embodied in general self-government, is the great moral element of

true democracy; it is the only reliable safety-valve in the machinery

of modern society. There is the solid foundation of our system of

government; there is our mission; there is our greatness; there is our

safety; there, and nowhere else! This is true Americanism, and to this

I pay the tribute of my devotion.

EDWIN LAWRENCE GODKIN

Edwin Lawrence Godkin was born of English ancestry at Moyne, County

Wicklow, Ireland, on October 2, 1831. His father, the Rev. James

Godkin, a Presbyterian minister of literary talents, after being

forced from his pulpit for espousing the cause of Young Ireland,

became a journalist of some distinction. The son received his

preparatory education at Armagh, and at Silcoates School, Wakefield,

Yorkshire. In 1846 he entered Queen’s College, Belfast. After

graduating from this institution in 1851, he went to London to study

law at Lincoln’s Inn. After some journalistic experience in the

Crimea and in Belfast, he came to America in 1856 and settled in

New York. His real career began with the founding of _The New York

Nation_ in 1865. His connection with this journal was both long and

distinguished, and his efforts for the encouragement of a sound

and enlightened public opinion have recently been appropriately

recognized in the semi-centenary volume, “Fifty Years of American

Idealism,” edited by Gustav Pollak. He contributed many incisive

essays on political and economic subjects to various magazines.

The most important of these have been collected in three volumes,

“Reflections and Comments,” “Problems of Modern Democracy,” and

“Unforeseen Tendencies of Democracy.” It is from the opening essay of

the second that the following selection is taken.

Wendell Phillips Garrison, his associate, said of him: “As no

American could have written Bryce’s ‘American Commonwealth’ or

Goldwin Smith’s ‘History of the United States,’ so it may be doubted

if any native of this country could have erected the standard of

political independence which Mr. Godkin set up in _The Nation_ and

maintained in _The Evening Post_. He did this, however, not as a

foreigner, but as an American to the core. A utilitarian of the

school of Bentham, an economist of the school of John Stuart Mill, an

English Liberal to whom America, with all its flagrant inconsistency

of slaveholding, was still the hope of universal democracy, he

cast in his lot with us, became a naturalized citizen, took an

American wife--gave every pledge to the land of his adoption except

that of being a servile follower of party.” Brilliant, thoughtful,

questioning, he was keenly sensible of the many evil tendencies

in modern democracy; yet with philosophic insight he rejected the

unsound comparisons drawn by many political thinkers between ancient

aristocratic democracies and modern democracy, which he viewed as a

new experiment and therefore to be tested by new principles and new

conditions.

AN IMMIGRANT’S FAITH IN DEMOCRACY[4]

If, indeed, the defects which foreign observers see, and many of

which Americans acknowledge and deplore, in the politics and society

of the United States were fairly chargeable to democracy,--if “the

principle of equality” were necessarily fatal to excellence in the

arts, to finish in literature, to simplicity and force in oratory,

to fruitful exploration in the fields of science, to statesmanship

in the government, to discipline in the army, to grace and dignity

in social intercourse, to subordination to lawful authority, and to

self-restraint in the various relations of life,--the future of the

world would be such as no friend of the race would wish to contemplate;

for the spread of democracy is on all sides acknowledged to be

irresistible. Even those who watch its advance with most fear and

foreboding confess that most civilized nations must erelong succumb to

its sway. Its progress in some countries may be slower than in others,

but it is constant in all; and it is accelerated by two powerful

agencies,--the Christian religion and the study of political economy.

The Christian doctrine that men, however unequal in their condition

or in their gifts on earth, are of equal value in the eyes of their

Creator, and are entitled to respect and consideration, if for no other

reason, for the simple one that they are human souls, long as it has

been preached, has, strange to say, only very lately begun to exercise

any perceptible influence on politics. It led a troubled and precarious

life for nearly eighteen hundred years in conventicles and debating

clubs, in the romance of poets, in the dreams of philosophers and the

schemes of philanthropists. But it is now found in the cabinets of

kings and statesmen, on the floor of parliament houses, and in the most

secret of diplomatic conferences. It gives shape and foundation to

nearly every great social reform, and its voice is heard above the roar

of every revolution.

And it derives invaluable aid in keeping its place and extending its

influence in national councils from the rapid spread of the study of

political economy, a science which is based on the assumption that men

are free and independent. There is hardly one of its principles which

is applicable to any state of society in which each individual is not

master of his own actions and sole guardian of his own welfare. In a

community in which the relations of its members are regulated by status

and not by contract, it has no place and no value. The natural result

of the study and discussion which the ablest thinkers have expended on

it during the last eighty years has been to place before the civilized

world in the strongest light the prodigious impulse which is given

to human energy and forethought and industry, and the great gain to

society at large, by the recognition in legislation of the capacity,

as well as of the right, of each human being to seek his own happiness

in his own way. Of course no political system in which this principle

has a place can long avoid conceding to all who live under it equality

before the law; and from equality before the law to the possession of

an equal share in the making of the laws, there is, as everybody must

see who is familiar with modern history, but a very short step.

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